The moon was bright, bone china white as I sat beneath the trees. Their branches stark, beckoned the dark, devoid of all their leaves. I waited there, in cooling air, As the last of daylight faded. Shadows grew, until I knew The hush of night pervaded. From time to time, a sip of wine, For warmth as much as mettle To see it through, this thing I do Even lesser tasks unsettle. I’ve considered how, with knitted brow, To repay…
